Here's the skinny (no pun intended) on my history with jeans.
It's freshman year in high school.... I can't find a single pair of jeans that are tight enough for me because Dogpile hasn't started making their girl's skinnies yet and Lip Service still hasn't figured out how to flatter a woman's body properly. As someone who won't settle for anything short of EXACTLY what I have pictured in my mind, I decide to alter all of my own pants (some by HAND!) to get that "painted on" look. This ritual continues until the rise of the skinny jean happens sometime around 2003.
So fine, I have totally accepted the fact that skinny jeans are just cuter than gross bootcut ones and yeah, I'm glad people caught on... but BLEACHIES?!?!? Seriously? Come on! I remember standing in my dad's basement, hovering over a pair of Levi's I had altered (no, they weren't stretch... holy uncomfortable!), splashing little cap fulls of Clorox on my jeans to get that bleached out look. In punk rock subculture, being "good" at making a pair of bleachies would get you street cred. I actually have fond memories of complimenting the skinhead boys on theirs because, for some unknown reason, boys were always much better at making them than girls were.
So now, here we are. It's 2009 and the "bleached out jean" is fucking EVERYWHERE. It's fucking everywhere and I can't decide if i love it or hate it. Some part of it makes me a little bit happy that I could take out my old bleached out skirts if I wanted to regurgitate my old style but my better judgement tells me maybe I should splurge for the new take on this old punk rock staple and get the J BRANDS I've been secretly eyeing.
(more barbaric pairs of DIY "bleachers" or "bleachies", as seen on skinheads and punk rockers)
To be continued....